


Miasma

by icylook



Series: Vergil Surana [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fantasy Racism, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-04 16:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21200309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icylook/pseuds/icylook
Summary: "Oh, so you're watching me now? I wonder why. No," he interrupts, as he sees Jory opening his mouth, "don't tell me."





	Miasma

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill Fog :D

"Why do you look at Duncan like that?" Vergil glances at the man and yes, it's him who's addressed, because ser knight is staring at him with poorly hidden accusation.

"Do you always start conversation this way?"

"He does," Daveth quips, looking positively estatic.

"Charming," he mutters and keeps walking, looking down to avoid stepping in another hidden puddle. The mist seems to thicken, muffling the sounds and increasing the damp feeling.

Alistair grunts something about keeping quiet. The fog creeped slowly, but surely and suddenly Vergil has a thought. Shouldn't the fog carry the sounds not mute them? But he keeps silent. What does he know about this place beside that it's wet, smelly and cold, and he hates all the bugs trying to bite him, the seldom noises of the wilds keeping him unusually on the edge and twitchy.

"Well?" Ser knight snaps at him, with all the authority of a peasant who thinks himself a noble.

"Well _what._" Vergil doesn't have the patience for idiots and this one tests it brilliantly. He didn't have the time to rest at all after he finally arrived to Ostagar, he's short on his sleep and wants to bathe properly in near future and why is this man with sword up his ass even talking to him.

"I saw you leer-"

"Oh, so you're watching me now? I wonder why. No," he interrupts, as he sees Jory opening his mouth, "don't tell me." If he'd hear something about turning into abomination or some other shit, he'll zap the man, companion or not. He'll make it look like an accident.

An unexpected thought strikes him, as he glares at the man and sees him quickly avoid his eye, jaw set in stubborn line. He recalls how the ser knight was clearly puzzled by Vergil being Duncan's recruit. Even more so when he had a better look at his ears, because he was as tall as most humans. And how he was surprised they _"Let women into Grey Wardens". _It must be the long braided hair that misled him. He knows this type. Bets Jory regretted Vergil lacks the bosom. It'd be justified then, the confused looks, averted staring.

_"You're too pretty for your own good."_

Vergil's used to being stared at, but the unwanted attention never stopped feeling like he bathed in something foul. He's better with ignoring it by now, even when it feels like the beginnings of a toothache, on the edge of awarness.

"_I_ could watch you harder, if you'd like," Daveth jests and gets Vergil's attention from his musings. He arches an eyebrow, purposely looking at the archer from head to feet. "I don't think you could handle me like you're convinced you would. For Duncan though, I could make an exception and _take_ it." He smirks as Daveth laughs.

"You-", Jory's sputtering in embarrassed outrage, "You can't say things like that!" Alistair just clears his throat, the tips of his ears red.

"I won't ask why not, because I might already have an idea about the way you think, ser knight," he smoothly shifts his tone to mockingly polite one, "But you don't have to worry, you're safe from me seducing you."

Jory's face takes on another shade of red. "And taking an advantage of our leader is better?" Ser knight's fuming.

He'll zap the man, he swears it. Vergil has enough of this conversation, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Daveth's shit eating grin. Alistair visibly tries his hardest to ignore them and hisses at them through clenched teeth, "Could you all be quiet for a moment, I think there's-"

"Just proves my point. All mages are the same, throwing themeselves without honour at everyone around and elven ones are even worse, the things elves do around the camp are-" Jory shuts his mouth when the temperature visibly drops and he sees his breath curl in the air.

Vergil's calm, deceptively so and a small smile plays on his lips, almost sad but with a hint of malice. His face seems neutral, too neutral, because his eyes look far from indifferent.

"Go on, I'd like to hear what elven servants_ do_ around the camp," He urges gently, a hint of steel in otherwise soft tone.

Even Daveth glances at him with wariness and shuffles away a bit further.

Jory almost chokes on his spit when he struggles with an answer, skin redding even more, hands twitching at his sides, like he isn't sure he should unsheathe his longsword and there's a moment of silence and a faint growl and Alistair's cry of _'darkspawns'_ and someone mutters _'thank the maker'_.

They are busy with the fight. The fog visibly thickens, and by now he's sure it's artificial. _Do drakspawns have their own mages?_ Vergil puts his frustration into his magic and it helps a little. One stray spell might hit Jory and Vergil relishes for a bit in his startled yelp.

Jory keeps away from him for the rest of the time.

**Author's Note:**

> I made Ser Jory a bad man. But someone who leaves his pregnant wife to chase after glory, even if he had a chance to say 'no'? Ugh. I have a feeling Jory would live through the joining, if not for Duncan 'helping' him not to. I'd take one full Warden!Daveth for five Jory's pff


End file.
